


Anchor Me

by janescott



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Community: kink_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:59:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my kink bingo square, sensory deprivation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magenta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magenta/gifts).



> Title from the song by The Muttonbirds. Beta'd by littlemousling.

Chris watches, his eyes wide, as Adam ties the scarf around his wrist. He focuses on the colour – it's a deep, rich shade of red that contrasts almost shockingly with his own pale skin.

"All right?"

Chris focuses back on Adam's face, blinking slowly as Adam's words reassemble in his mind. The scarf is tight around his wrist, the fabric smooth, his hand pushed against the wooden rung of the bedhead. "I – yes. I'm, I'm fine."

Adam nods, and ties Chris's other hand, frowning in concentration as he carefully ties the knot and all Chris can see is the deep red, filling his mind. He closes his eyes – just briefly – and swallows, hard, his throat dry. He tugs on the restraints, and they're tight, but he's got just enough give.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at Adam, feeling his mind already start to blur around the edges. He shifts his legs, the high-count cotton sheets feeling like silk against his bare skin. Adam's still fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a fading band logo on the front. His arms are bare, and Chris's hands twitch with the need to touch, forgetting for a second that he won't be touching anything for a while.

A small groan escapes as that thought – fleeting though it is – makes his dick swell and throb with blood. Adam brushes his fingertips gently over the length and it feels like all of Chris's nerve-endings are rising to the surface at once.

He groans again, and Adam glances up. "Too much? Sorry, baby." Adam's voice is soft and low; and Chris closes his eyes, to ride the sound of it better, as he presses his knees against Adam's denim-clad thighs, the fabric rough against his skin.

He hisses out a breath when he feels another scarf sliding over his throat, and he arches his neck by instinct, his eyes still closed. "Good, so good ..." Adam's voice is like an anchor, as he ties the blindfold over Chris's eyes. Chris takes a breath and clenches and unclenches his hands, the loss of sight making his instincts kick over to touch, but he has nowhere to go.

"Adam ... please ..." Chris doesn't know what he's asking for; isn't really sure what he's _doing_ here, he just knows – "I need ..." Adam's hand slides over his neck, stroking, stroking. "Shhhh. I know, I know."

Chris is going to ask Adam one day, just _how_ he knows – every time – just what Chris needs, because sometimes, it's almost scary. But it's Adam, and Adam is the only person that Chris trusts like this – thinks that maybe Adam's the only person he ever _will_ trust like this.

He can hear Adam moving – the near-silent rustle of clothes coming off, and the soft sound they make as they drop to the floor, and then Adam's back, sliding his large, warm body over Chris's; his skin feeling like over-heated silk against Chris's straining nerve-endings.

Chris arches his neck and presses his legs against Adam's, silent pleas, as Adam covers his mouth with his own, his tongue hot and wet and insistent in Chris's mouth.

Chris pushes up from the bed as best he can, his hard dick rubbing against Adam's own erection, low moans pushing up and out of his throat and on to Adam's tongue, into his mouth. He's on the edge already – his world narrowed to the rub of Adam's skin against his own, and the scent of Adam's cologne and sweat filling his senses until he feels like he's going to go into freefall.

Adam breaks the kiss first, and strokes his fingertips down Chris's chest, following the path he's making with his mouth and his tongue until Chris feels like he actually might catch on fire.

When Adam's mouth closes gently around the head of his hard, leaking dick, Chris doesn't even try and hold back the shout that's been building inside him since Adam tied the first scarf around his wrist.

Adam takes Chris's length into his mouth slowly, until Chris feels like the only thing he ever remembers is _wet_ and _hot_ and oh god, Adam's _tongue_. His breath is coming out in short, gasping pants, as his hips twitch up and down until Adam spreads his hands over them, pinning him to the bed and it's _too much_. "Adam, Adam ..." and he's coming, hard, like his orgasm is being pulled out of his body by Adam's mouth.

He lets himself sink back on to the bed, his mind nothing more than a fuzzy haze. There's a faint ache in his arms and his wrists that he knows somewhere in the back of his mind is going to feel ten times worse tomorrow, but he's riding the sensations he does have right now too deeply to care.

Adam murmurs something in his ear, and he turns his head by instinct, seeking Adam's mouth again; needing that connection – that touch, because that's the only thing that's stopping him from completely floating away. The only thing keeping him anchored.


End file.
